


Silver Lining

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1440838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Aramis fell a little bit in love with Porthos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally part of a larger story I'm working on but it didn't end up fitting too well? So I made it into a series of drabbles. I don't know why I keep insisting on writing from Aramis' POV. It is always a disaster.

**0.**  
Aramis falls in love too easily – he knows this. They come and they go and they never return – too easily they fall away, and with each passing shadow, a little sliver of his heart is gone, too, never to repair.

He falls in love and falls out of love like the tides. He knows this. 

 

 **I.**  
He stands, tall and quiet, big and, he supposes, attempting to look intimidating. He can see it in the way he stands – arms out, gripping his belt, glaring at nothing, chin tilted slightly down. It doesn’t work in Aramis’ case, but he’s seen many a musketeer shy away from this new recruit in the face of that intimidation. The first day he’d seen him, Marsac had said some passing comment about his demeanor – that he seemed overly aggressive, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing for a musketeer. Still, Aramis hasn’t interacted with him until now, and now they’re assigned to a back route near the docks to work together for the afternoon. 

Aramis tips his hat as he walks towards him. “Looks as if you’re with me today. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.” 

Aramis waits patiently for his new companion to speak. He observes Aramis for a long moment and then finally says, “Porthos du Vallon.”

There’s a hint of challenge to his voice, to the name, and he looks at Aramis as if he is expected a fight. “Well, Porthos du Vallon,” Aramis says and smiles wide, tipping his hat. “You can call me Aramis.” 

“I can, can I?” Porthos asks, and lifts one eyebrow and for half a second, Aramis wonders if he’s making a joke, and it makes him grin. 

“I won’t be opposed,” Aramis says, sweeping his hat off his head for something to fiddle with, making an exaggerated bow he hopes Porthos will take for humor and not disrespect. 

And there’s a tension that eases from Porthos’ eyes, and his face looks softer for a moment – and even though Aramis is not surprised to see it, the transformation is still something to marvel at, at how easily the aggression seems to simmer away. 

“Suppose you can call me Porthos, then,” he agrees with a small shrug, and Aramis knows that there’s a wall that’s come down so quickly – as if it is easy, and Aramis is almost jealous of that. 

 

 **II.**  
Aramis by nature is a loner, very tight-lipped about his life and about his past, so it is something of a surprise when Porthos look at him from across the table they’re sharing, hand curled around his cup thoughtfully when he says, “Today’s not actually my birthday, you know.” 

Aramis is surprised simply because Porthos is never very forthcoming about his past, either, and he’d taken to assume they were of a similar mind, that Porthos simply did not want to share. But Porthos is watching him, as if he is waiting for Aramis to laugh at him, or draw back, or react negatively in any way.

He reaches out his hand and curls his fingers around his wrist, gentle, smiling at him in what he hopes is comfort. “Tell me?” 

 

 **III.**  
And when Porthos laughs – and his entire face lights up, his entire body shaking with the force of it – it’s the most wonderful thing Aramis has ever seen. The most beautiful sound in the world. 

 

 **IV.**  
“Porthos, my friend,” Aramis says quietly, looking up at him in that small, seductive shyness he’s cultivated over the years, waits until he receives Porthos’ answering questioning smile before saying, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

And he does.

 

 **V.**  
He grips Porthos tightly by the shoulders, arching up over him and panting out, keeping his eyes shut when he can’t handle the expression Porthos has when he looks up at him – as if Aramis himself has hung the stars and moon and then floated back down to earth to kiss him and him alone. He doesn’t know how to respond to someone looking at him in such a manner. 

But he opens his eyes anyway and watches Porthos watching him, his entire body humming with the deep, dark possessiveness of someone who wants to be loved and needed, of someone who wants to be wanted. 

Porthos’ hands are steady and strong where they grip his hips, not guiding him so much as holding onto him as Aramis rides him. And he smiles – that shaky, wobbling one Porthos makes sometimes, crooked and endearing. 

“You alright?” he asks, quiet and breathy as he holds onto him, voice gravelly and low and going straight down to Aramis’ core. 

He can only nod, moaning quietly and gripping to him. He nods again, and whispers, “I’m good.”

And Porthos laughs, softly, leaning up and catching his mouth in a kiss and Aramis sinks into it, feels it completely, and never once lets go of Porthos. He clings to him, grips him tightly, as if he could keep him from sheer force of will. 

When he wakes in the morning, Porthos is still there, making small, snuffling sounds into his shoulder, arm heavy across his stomach, and snoring against his neck – and by all accounts it should be annoying, obnoxious at best. 

And Aramis smiles, content for all the world.


End file.
